History Repeats Itself
by Belestrange
Summary: Ron recieves a drunken phone call from Hermione one night and is rather forced to apperate to her flat. rating for strong language. COMPLETED! New Penname. Previously Christmas At WonWon's.
1. The Phone Rings

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. I never have, I never will. _

_A/N: So I haven't been posting lately, but I've got a Sunday afternoon and a computer to myself, so what the hell? I was in the car with Ashley yesterday and this song came on the radio. It was the first time I'd heard it, as I'm more prone to CD's myself. I didn't even like it that much, I mean, I wouldn't even have payed attention if I hadn't hear a couple of the lines. They sparked this two-shot. _

The phone's ringing. I can hear Lavender stirring in the bedroom and it's making me nauseous. I get off the couch and pad over to the small desk. Then I pick up the phone.

"Hello?" My voice is bleary and weighted with sleep.

"Ron?"

"Hermione?" I hear her sniff, as though she has a cold or something. "Are you sick?" I ask worriedly, sleepiness forgotten. Then I flinch guiltily. If Lavender knew who was on the phone…

"Not sick," (another sniff) "hafta talk t'you." It's only now that I realize that her words are slightly slurred.

"Are you – have you been _drinking?"_ I ask incredulously. She can't have been. Prim, proper Hermione Granger – not that she never drinks, mind you, she's just a lot more responsible about it than say, Harry or me.

" 'Little," she replies. I can feel my eyes widen in shock. "But – Ron, I hafta tell you somethin'. You needa c'mover righ' now – "

"Hermione, it's –" I check the clock, "Two seventeen. In the morning."

"So?" She's not going to let this go.

"_So _Lavender's going to hear me leave and then she's going to hate you even more than she already does. Besides, last time I checked, you weren't speaking to me." It's true, but it's not why I don't want to go. I don't want to go because I am deathly afraid of what might – what _will _– happen. Hermione's drunk. I can tell you exactly what will occur –I'll go round to the flat she shares with Ginny (where _is_ Gin, anyway?) and she'll tell me the _real_ reason she's mad that I got back together with Lavender, which I think I know, but I refuse to think about it, because thinking would be hoping, and hoping would be mentally cheating on Lavender, and even though she annoys the hell out of me ninety percent of the time, it's nice to have _someone _want me. Besides, I am not the cheating kind of guy. Just because I don't particularly like my current girlfriend, just because the only reason I'm still with her after eight months is because I can't figure out how to break it off nicely – doesn't mean I should disrespect her and go off with some other girl. Then again, Hermione isn't just some other girl, she's _the_ other girl….

I realize Hermione's saying something on the other end.

"I don't give a damn about that little tart, Ronald. Get over here, this instant." _Uh oh._ Hermione's pissed off. And drunk. And still capable of Apperating, I'm quite sure. So, either I go to Hermione's or she comes here. I sigh.

"I'm on my way."

"Good." The line goes dead.

Chapter 2 up tommorow! 


	2. Stab My Back

_A/N: I've decided to make this a three-shot (is that even a real…thing?), because I have a lot more to fit into this. So I will have chapter three (hopefully the final one) up by Wednesday. And yes, as you may have noticed if you read A Midsummer's Dream (which I will update soon, I promise!) and this chapter – I like Ron…not wearing a shirt. It's the best thing since…disposable socks. (Don't ask) And I firmly believe that I am doing Hermione a favor. _

Hermione's flat is just as it always is, neat and straightened and all in order, except for the odd little quirky things that don't belong, like a random shirt lying on the living room floor, or dirty dishes still on the table, clear indications of Ginny's presence. Hermione herself is sitting on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, swinging her legs back and forth and scowling ferociously at me.

"Hey," I manage to squeak out. Drunken Hermione frightens me, even more than Sober Hermione, quite a feat.

"Hello, Ronald." Her words are less slurred than they sounded on the phone; at least she seems to be pronouncing them more clearly and wholly. I cower under her gaze.

"So, uh… you called?" I sound ridiculous. I _look_ ridiculous too, in my too-short maroon pajama pants. Hell, I'm not even wearing a shirt. My ears heat up, though I'm not quite sure why. It's not as though she hasn't seen me shirtless before, swimming and whatnot. I can feel the rest of my face heat up when I realize what _Hermione _is wearing. It's the flimsiest, shortest, lowest-cut nightgown I've ever seen. And I live with Lavender Brown, Queen of Questionable Lingerie.

She laughs when she notices me staring (I can't help it), which surprises me. Normally, I'd expect her to slap me across the face, or a least launch into a long and boring lecture about controlling my hormones, but no, all I get is this laugh, and it's utterly un-Hermione-ish too – throaty and sexy, not that she's not sexy, mind you…_You have a **girlfriend**, Weasley._ _Of course, the only thing she thinks I might be good for is shagging, which I have, so far, refused, which means I am forced to sleep on the couch, while she sleeps in the bed. **My** bed, to be accurate. _

But that is not the point. The point is that Hermione Jane Granger, woman of my dreams is sitting in front of me, wearing a provocative little nightgown and laughing a provocative little laugh, and pretty much turning me on…_which she should be, because** I have a girlfriend.**_ It's a never-ending cycle, really.

"Yeah, um, what's…going on?" I'm pretty sure I know what's going on, but I need to hear the sound of my own voice – make sure it's still working.

"How's _Lavender?_" she asks, pure loathing in her voice.

"She's um…She's fine." _But not as fine as you – I don't want to, for instance, rip a certain provocative little nightgown off of her and ravish her right there in a certain kitchen. (This is hypothetically speaking of course.)_

"So you two are getting along then? She's not, y'know, calling you _Won-Won_ or anything?" She's still angry, but I detect something else behind her voice, sadness maybe, regret. She starts to choke up. I sigh.

"Hermione, why am I _really_ here?" I ask. "You – even when you're drunk – you _are_ drunk, Hermione," (for she begins to protest) "- don't behave this way. There must be _some _reason you called me up at _two in the morning_ and forced me to come over. What is it?"

I can see all her thoughts cross her face – she examines the consequences of telling me, then of not telling me. Then I see the look I want and fear cross her face. It's the '_oh hell, what've I got to lose by now'_ look.

She jumps down from the counter lightly, landing softly on the linoleum, then proceeds to make her way over to the other side of the room, where I am standing, rather slowly and tipsily.

"Do you _really_ want to know?" She murmurs seductively, running her small hands down my bare chest and over my stomach. I shiver. I swallow nervously. I am petrified. I know I should refuse. I should say no right now and leave – leave the woman of my dreams and go home to the gorgeous girlfriend any other guy would _kill_ to have. But that small, rebellious part of my brain is telling the rest of me to shut up and let fate run things for a while. Let this happen and _be happy_. And for some reason, I do. I try to tune my conscience out, and I look down at Hermione.

"Yeah, I…_do _what to know," I breathe, allowing myself to become entranced in her scent, her curls, her big, brown eyes. She continues to trace light patterns over my bare skin, using just the tips of her fingers.

"Well, Ron, the reason I called you so late at night was because…" She trails off and wraps her arms around my neck. I _know_ I shouldn't be doing this, or at the very least, I should be feeling horribly guilty for betraying Lavender _and_ taking advantage of Hermione – she _is_ drunk, after all. She'd certainly never behave this way if she were sober…But I can't help myself. Anyway, I know, deep down, that Lavender was never the real thing. It was Hermione all along. If I don't take advantage of this opportunity now, I may never get another one. So I close my eyes and lean into her.

Our lips brush, then she deepens the kiss. She tastes like firewhiskey, and she tastes good.

Before I know it, I've got her up against the counter, and she's wrapping her legs around my waist, and her hands are in my hair, and I'm trying to get her bra unhooked and her nightgown off at the same time, and –

"Won-Won? **_What do you think you're doing?"_**

Oh dear…Lavender.

Review, me lovelies!


	3. And She Screams

A/N: Okay, so I was lying – this is going to be at least five chapters long, which sucks for me, because I have all this homework and rehearsals for the school play, however, somehow I am managing to find the time to write. I love this story, though, and in my opinion, it keeps getting better. I may have to change the rating though, depending on what I decide next. And I'm sorry it's a day late, I'm doing the best I can.

Hermione pulls away from me quickly, and we stare at each other dazedly. Lavender is shrieking on and on in the background, but I can't make out the exact words. Then again, it's not as though I'm really trying. I feel as drunk as Hermione actually is – my head is spinning and my vision's blurry. I just kissed Hermione Granger. **_I just kissed Hermione Granger. _**Or rather, she kissed me, but I kissed her back, so it's the same thing, really.

I tune into Lavender's ranting.

"Completely betrayed me! If you think for one moment that you can just come home and go back to bed with me – "

"Shut up!" I yell. I can't help it, it just bursts out of me. She looks upset, but Ii don't care. I stopped caring about her when I was sixteen, and now, especially now, that I've gotten a taste of Hermione – drunk Hermione, albeit, but Hermione nonetheless, I never want to go back to Lavender. I want to leave Lavender in the dust.

"Won-won – " she starts, sticking out her lower lip, but I've had it.

"Will you stop bloody calling me that? My name is Ron! And I don't want to go back home with you! I don't want to go to bed with you, all right? How many times do I have to fucking say it, Lavender, I don't want to have sex with you! She sticks out her lower lip further, batting her long eyelashes mournfully. She looks ridiculous. "Don't pout at me! It won't get you anywhere! Merlin, I am so sick of you whining and complaining…" Hermione's wrapping her arms around me, snuggling into my chest. She really is _ridiculously _drunk. "'Mione, not right now, alright?" I say, much more gently. She looks up at me sorrowfully and I almost laugh: she's making the same face lavender was not two minutes ago. Except, it looks cute when she does it. "Maybe you should go into the living room," I murmur. She raises an eyebrow.

"But I'll still be able to hear you in the living room."

"So?"

"So," she leans in close and whispers, "Listening to you yelling rather turns me on." Alright, she's not just ridiculously drunk, she's _insanely_ drunk. I smirk a little at her comment, but then I remember that I've still got Lavender to deal with.

"Hermione, go into the living room," I say, more firmly.

"No." She hops back up onto the counter and I sigh. I know there's no arguing with her. Her mind is made up. So I turn back to Lavender. But Lavender's not looking at me anymore; she's glaring daggers at Hermione.

"You," She whispers, in a deadly voice I've never heard before. "You are a dirty little skank and you always were. Even in school, everyone thought you were so _sweet_ and_ innocent. _But you weren't, were you? Always sneaking around behind people's backs, pretending to be so _studious,_ when you were really going off to snog Krum and Cormac, and no doubt there were others too. Who were they, Hermione? Seamus? Neville? And on top of all that, you've stolen Ron away again!" Hermione begins to giggle uncontrollably.

"History repeats itself, Lavender," she grins, "And besides, I didn't steal Ron. I could have, easily, but I didn't. It was his decision to leave you. All I did was give him prod in the right direction."

"Which time?" Lavender screams, red in the face. "Which fucking time, you little whore?"

"Hey!" we all whirl around. Ginny is standing in the doorway, fiery hair mussed from bed, wearing a (in my personal opinion) much too short pink lacy nighty and pulling on a heavy red dressing robe over it. Hang on – that's not Ginny's robe, I've seen that before on –

"What's going on?" Harry appears behind my sister, in a pair of old pajama bottoms and a baggy green shirt. It's on inside out, which makes me think that he's just pulled it on.

"Harry?" I cannot comprehend this. "What are _you_ doing here?" He pushes his glasses up him long nose, blushing profusely in the process.

"I could ask you the same question, mate." He looks shiftily at his feet. I look at him, then Ginny, then him, the back at Ginny, and it dawns on me.

"Oh, God! You and Gin – ugh!" I feel slightly nauseous. Ginny opens her mouth to retort, but Harry shushes her. He's literally the only person I know who can make her shut up.

"I think," he says, giving her a Look, "That we should get back to the matter at hand, which is why, exactly, Ron, Lavender, and Hermione are standing in our – your – kitchen at two-thirty in the morning, arguing very loudly."

"It's _my_ kitchen, too!" Hermione says shrilly, glaring at Harry. A look of comprehension crosses his face.

"Ron," he says, "can I talk to you…er, out in the hallway?"

"Um, yeah, sure." I follow him to the door. Once it's closed behind us, he turns on me and says,

"Is Hermione _drunk?"_

"And just what exactly is going on here?"

"Well, Hermione called me, and asked me to come over. I wasn't going to, because it was so late, but then I realized that she was drunk, and I should probably go check on her. So I did. Then…we, er, we sort of…snogged…" I trail off and feel my face heat up, but Harry, bloody wanker that he is, grins obnoxiously.

"That's great! You can finally ditch Lavender! I can't stand her. And you and Hermione are meant to be together!" He starts to dance. I am not making this up, I swear. Harry freaking Potter is _dancing_ in front of me.

"Calm down!" I say. "And for Merlin's sake, keep your voice down! I need your help." He stops dancing and sobers up quickly, giving me a mistrusting look.

"What for?"

"It's Lavender. The reason she's so mad is because she walked in on me and Hermione while we were snogging…it was a rather…compromising position – it's not _funny_, Harry!"

"How bad was it?" He asks, interestedly.

"I had her up against the fucking counter with her nightgown half off, and I was trying to unhook her bra, and get her knickers of at the same time," I growl. Harry's eyes nearly pop out of his head. Then he smirks.

"Ron, mate, someday we need to have a talk about girls. Y'know, like, when you're undressing them, do it slowly, seriously, makes them want you even more."

"And I suppose you've been using this philosophy on my innocent little sister?"

"She's hardly innocent any more, mate." He clamps his hand over his mouth and I am, for one instant, reminded of Sirius.

"I'll let that one go, on the grounds that we need to get back to the matter at hand," I say.

"Which _is_?"

"Getting Lavender out of my life with minimal drama." Harry grins.

"Right-o, mate." He begins to push open the kitchen door, but then jumps back suddenly, as though he's been burned, stomping all over my feet.

"Ow! What the bleeding hell was that for?" I moan, hopping on one foot while clutching the other, the cursing again as I hit my head on the too-low hallway ceiling. It is much too early in the morning for all this.

"You go first," Harry says. Oh, wonderful. The boy who isn't afraid of evil snake men or death is afraid of the situation in the kitchen. And he's making me go first. Fan-fucking-tastic. I gulp and push open the door. What I see is so shocking I almost turn around and race past Harry again, who is cowering behind me.

Lavender and Ginny are fighting. And not girly fighting either. Well, not Gin, Lavender is. I suppose that's what happens when you're the only girl in a family of seven. Hermione is still sitting on the counter, wide-eyed, looking exactly as I feel.

"Ginny!" Harry yells. She ignores him, so he dives bravely into the fray, as is his custom, pulling her off of Lavender.

"Let me _go, _Harry!" She squeals, but he refuses too, even though she fights him.

"What is going on here?" I ask.

"She – " Ginny points angrily at Lavender, who is pouting again, "was bad-mouthing Hermione. And as this is the first time I've ever seen Hermione drunk, I figured she wasn't in the right state to take her on herself, so I did."

"Ginny – " I begin, but before I can continue, Lavender starts up.

"I was just telling her what Hermione did to…to us, in sixth year, Won…Ron. D'you remember? The night we broke up?" I do remember.

"What happened?" Harry demands. I look at Hermione, who I can tell is starting to sober up a bit, and we exchange panicked glances. We swore to each other after it happened that we wouldn't tell anyone, not even Harry, what had happened. _Especially_ not Harry. He had too much on his mind already for us to start anything. But now, I suppose, now that everything's over… I give Hermione a questioning look, and she nods. _Tell them. _I take a deep breath.

"Well, what happened was…"

Yay, cliffhanger! The next chapter's going to be a flashback, just so you know. Review!


	4. It's Been This Way Before

A/N: A day late, a bit short, but it's here! So enjoy, and I need to go change the song on my iTunes because my mom's in the room and it's bit inappropriate…

Oh yeah, and just so you know, this is what happened, from Ron's POV, it's not exactly what he's telling Harry and everyone. He's summarizing it for them.

**Chapter 4 (Flashback)**

_It was April 21, 1997. I remember the most random things. Anyway, at about seven o clock in the evening, Harry got the brilliant idea to go down to Hagrid's for that bloody spider's funeral. Of course, he had to leave me alone with an irate Lavender, and a slightly stunned Hermione (sound familiar to anyone?). See, we were coming out of the dorm, Me, Harry, and Hermione, but of course, Harry just HAD to put on his invisibility cloak BEFORE we got to the stairwell (which is tiny, but, thank Merlin, blocked from the common room), where Lavender was waiting for me. _

_As soon as she saw us, she started freaking out. I mean, really flipping out. We're talking on the freaking ceiling here. _

_"WHAT WERE YOU DOING UP THERE WITH **HER**?" she shrieked. I started mumbling something incoherent, while Hermione began rambling about needing to borrow my Potions book or some other such nonsense. Well, it wasn't like we could just come out with the truth, 'Oh, hey, Lav, Harry's just taken some lucky potion so he can go get a memory from Professor Slughorn which is necessary to have in order to defeat Lord I-Have-No-Need-Of-A-Nose-and-Am-Convinced-That-I-Am-Indeed-A-Snake.' That would totally go down well. _

_Anyway, Lavender was shrieking, Hermione was babbling, and I'd just shut up. The two of them together though – they were almost as loud as the twins. They gave me more of a headache, anyway._

_Then I had a sudden wonderful, glorious idea, but I wasn't sure how Hermione would react to it. I had to try it though, anything to shut Lavender up. So I took a deep, shaky breath and turned towards Hermione. _

_"Play along," I whispered, then I kissed her. Softly at first, because I was afraid she was going to pull away and slap me. But she didn't. Instead, she entwined her hands in my hair and kissed me back. She was soft at first, too. If I had to guess why, it was probably because she knew she didn't have as much kissing experience as me. Well, she'd kissed more people, but I'd been doing it a bit more frequently than her. So I suppose Hermione was scared too, in a way. _

_Anyway, after a few minutes of this fumbling chasteness, we both became more confident. So confident, in fact, that Hermione was suddenly opening her lips against mine, and I was slipping my tongue into her mouth and pulling her closer to me – flush against me, actually, and she gave this tiny, tiny, impossibly soft moan. I was thinking that it was possibly one of the sexiest things I'd ever heard, but I didn't really register why she'd done it until I realized that my hands were in places that a bloke's hands should _most definitely not_ be on his best (girl) mate. _

_I was thinking that I should REALLY move them, but for some reason, I didn't. It was funny, but with Lavender, snogging had always been rather awkward. I'd had to think about exactly what I was doing – where to put my hands, what to do with my mouth – all that. I was so focused on _that_ that I couldn't enjoy it. With Hermione though – it was easy, simple. She seemed to fit perfectly in my hands – seemed to wait patiently, excitedly, for whatever I was going to do next. That is, until she took matters into her own hands. _

_Suddenly, she was pulling those perfect, beautiful lips away from mine – and I was groaning at the loss of contact. Not for long, though – because she began to place featherlight kisses up my jawline. Then suddenly she was nipping at my earlobe gently, and causing a low growl to issue from the back of my throat. _Yeah, that's right, Krum – bet she never did that to **you.** (_Not that I'm competitive or anything)_

_It was about then that I realized that Lavender had long-since stopped her tirade and stormed out of the empty stairwell. But for some reason, I didn't stop Hermione. _

_On the contrary, I backed her up against a conveniently located stone wall and let my hands begin to roam again. But before I knew it, Hermione was breaking away (rather reluctantly, I noticed) and blushing rather brilliantly. _

_"She's – she's gone, Ron," she squeaked, looking anywhere but at me. _

_"Right." I hastily removed my hand from where it had been, right under the hemline of her skirt – then ran my fingers through my hair, in a desperate attempt to smooth it down. _

_"I – I don't think we should tell Harry what – I mean, about what just…happened," she said, trying to sound unembarrassed and businesslike, and failing miserably. _

_"Yeah," I managed, glad that one of us was still capably of speech. You wouldn't think that kissing Hermione Granger would turn me into a stuttering, blushing idiot, but it did. _

_"it wouldn't be good on him, she continued. "You know how he gets about things like this – he might think that we're dating…or – or something, and I don't think he' quite ready for that – not that we would, or he's expecting it or anything. _

_"We'd better not tell anyone," I said, regaining the power of speech somewhat. "It could get back around to him. Lavender won't tell anyone. She'd be too embarrassed that her boyfriend was caught kissing someone else." We both blushed at the word 'kissing.' Hermione nodded._

_"Well, it's over now, at any rate," she said. "She can't very well go round calling you 'Won-Won' anymore, can she?" I laughed embarrassedly, and she gave a slight smile. _

_"No, she can't," I said. I wanted to kiss Hermione again, for some reason unbeknownst to me – I was a seventeen-year-old boy, after all – but I knew I couldn't. And anyway, I had a rather embarrassing problem occurring in my –ahem- nether regions, if you catch my drift. So I just said, _

_"I think I'll go to bed – y'know, I'm rather tired after all that – after Lavender um, yelling so much." She nodded. _

_"Yeah, I think I'll go upstairs, too. Goodnight."_

_"'Night." She turned back._

_"Oh, and Ron?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"You might want to have your ears checked out – I've noticed that they're rather sensitive."_

_I could feel said body parts heating up as she slipped out of the stairwell and into the common room, blushing furiously. _

Review!

BTW- The class I usually write in (Decisions) – well, we got new seats, so I'm in the front of the room. Which means updates may be a bit slow, but not very. 


	5. Well, I hope that you're happy

**A/N: I. Am. Soooo. Sorry. This was supposed to be up like, three weeks ago, but stuff just kept getting in the way:( So I will try to make it up to you…I hope you really like it (because I actually _did_ work hard on it.) And, as this is the last chapter, I am beginning to write a sort of prequel. Not really a prequel, but I suppose you could look at it that way if you wanted. I'm pretty sure I'm going to call it _Testosterone Boys and Harlequin Girls, _but I don't know if they would delete it for that name on the grounds that it could be taken as 'inappropriate.' (Yes, I like Panic! At the Disco…okay, I LOVE Panic! At the Disco) SO leave me a review, tell me what you think of the ending, and tell me what you think of that title. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this story. It's been amazing. P.S. I changed my penname, to those of you who are wondering what the hell is going on. **

Lavender screams. There aren't any words, just a sort of screech of fury.

"I HATE YOU!" No…there are the words. Damn. "I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!" She trembles with fury. I take a step backwards. I can actually _feel _the anger radiating off of her. She's gotten like this only twice before: the time she asked me if I though Parvati was hot and I said yes, and the time I forgot our 'one month' anniversary. (yeah, because blokes totally keep track of that sort of stuff.) I know what's going to happen next, though. In three…Two…One…

The lights flicker and then die. The whole room begins to shake and the two empty firewhiskey bottles sitting on the counter (courtesy of Hermione, no doubt) topple off and smash on the cold linoleum.

I curse softly and fumble in my back pocket for my wand. It's not there. _Of course it's not there, you idiot, You're wearing pajamas. _

"Harry?" I don't dare ask anyone else. Merlin knows what would happen in Hermione picked up a wand in her present state, and Ginny and Lavender are both too pissed off to do much more than glare at each other without breaking something. Harry, however, seems to think the whole thing is rather amusing. (I'm sure I will too, when I look back on it later, but right now I'm just irritated.) We're obviously on the same page, though, because before I can even finish my question, he says,

"Right, hold on." A few seconds later, a wand tip flares, illuminating the flickering faces around me. Harry grins cheekily at Lavender, and I groan in anticipation of what I know is coming next (something stupid on Harry's part, I'm sure).

"So, does the power always go out when you're angry, or what?" _Shut up, Harry, shut up._ I'm trying to send him a message through telepathy, but so far it's not working.

"Because that could be quite hazardous to everyone else in your apartment building…_Ron's_ apartment building, that is. " _Fuck._ The very last thing you should ever say to Lavender is that something of mine doesn't belong to her as well. She's under that impression, for some reason. As soon as we started dating again, she moved into my flat. Literally, I mean, _as soon as we started dating._ I asked her out and then the next day, there she was on my doorstep, trunks and wand in tow and looking so…eager that I didn't have the heart to tell her no. Now I wish I had. Anyway, Harry's comment gets Lavender all riled up again, but just as she's about to blow a gasket, or whatever that stupid phrase is, Ginny opens her mouth again. And this time, she _scares me._

Now, before I tell you what she's actually _saying,_ I'd like to remind you that my dear little sister has a tendency to scream when she's angry. Loudly. I think my eardrums are permanently damaged, actually, from living with her for seventeen years, then happening to be best friends with her boyfriend for another four (_A/N: Someone asked me how old they were, so I am clarifying here that they are all in the general range of 21.), _thus resulting in too much close proximity with said little sister. Anyway, Ginny's pretty scary when she starts screeching at you, but she's even scarier when her voice goes all quiet and deadly. The only other time I've ever seen her this way was when she was talking to Bellatrix Lestrange, who she had in the full body-bind, right before she killed her. That'll give you an idea of how mad she is.

"_Lavender Malvina Brown_ – yes, that's right, I know your middle name, you can't leave mock-wedding invitations lying around Ron's apartment and not expect someone to find them – you get the hell out of my flat this instant, or I swear on Uncle Billius's grave, _I will make you the most miserable human being alive._ I will make your life worse than those of the last Death Eaters left in Azkaban. You have been doing _precisely that_ to my best friend, and, if I'm not quite mistaken, my favourite brother, for the past year-and-a-half and I'm _sick_ of it. Go to Ron's flat, get your stuff, then leave. I don't care if you haven't got a home, go room with Parvati for a while – I'll floo her myself if I have too, just **_get the fuck out of my brother's life."_** She says this last bit with a bit of her usual…volume, but nevertheless, it's powerful. Lavender just stands there gaping for a moment, then she shoots Ginny a look of pure contempt.

"I don't have to leave unless Won-Won tells me to," she says, clearly thinking that she's onto something here. It's as though the past half-hour (in which she found her boyfriend cheating on her, and was told that the first time it happened was all just a set-up to get her the hell away from me) never happened. "You don't want to break up with me, do you, Ron?" She asks, turning towards me and pouting severely. I want to kill her.

"Actually, Lavender, I've wanted to break up with you for a while now, " I say. As soon as it slips out of my mouth, I regret it. Not that it isn't true, or anything, but because…well, talk about letting her down harshly. "I'm sorry, that didn't come out how I wanted it to," I say. "We're just not right for each other. I mean, the truth is, well," I take a sidelong glance at Hermione, who is listening intently. "I've known who was right for me since I was eleven years old. I just tried to deny it, because it seemed so strange and impossible. But, I'm sorry. It's just, I love Hermione, and that's all there is to it." Lavender's huge, blue-violet eyes fill with tears and she pushes her long, thick mane of golden-blonde hair over her shoulder. I appreciate, one last time, how really _strikingly beautiful _she is, and then I let her go. For good. With a strangles sob, she pirouettes gracefully, and then, with a loud crack, she's disappeared, permanently.

I turn to Ginny.

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I rush over to her to pick her up and twirl her around, just as the lights go on. Harry clears his throat, and I roll my eyes, but set Ginny down on the cold linoleum floor.

"No problem, big brother, she grins, before yawning widely and stretching. "I'm going to bed. Harry?"

"Right," he salutes her and then begins to follow her out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Ginny?" She turns back and looks at me.

"Hmm?"

"Can I spend the night here? I mean, I don't want to go back to my flat while Lavender's still packing and all," I say. Ginny smirks at me.

"Ask Hermione. She lives here, too, y'know." And with that she is gone, Harry following in her wake. I turn to Hermione.

"Well, can I?" I ask, rather self-consciously.

"Hmm?" She's staring at me in a blurry-eyed, but deliriously happy, thoughtful way.

"Can I spend the night?" I repeat, then feel my face heat up as I watch hers do the same. "Not like that!" I rectify. "I mean, so I don't have to go back to my flat while Lavender's still there – I reckon it'll take her a couple days to fully remove herself, and I was wondering if I could crash here for a while."

Hermione grins at me, and I can see her sobering up.

"Of course you can, Ron," she smiles warmly and I am lost in that smile.

"Okay, well, I'll just go sleep on the couch then, I suppose," I say. I'm dead tired.

"Oh, no you won't," Hermione smirks, grabbing hold of my arm. She's slid off of the counter now, and is looking up at me, that last little bit of firewhiskey still affecting her – I can tell by the look in her eyes. "You're sleeping in my bed," she says determinedly. I open my mouth to protest.

"Hermione, you're still drunk – I don't want to, y'know, take advantage of you, or anything." She laughs.

"You won't be – don't look at me like that, Ron. I don't mean it like that. I just want to sleep next to you." She stands on tiptoe and kisses me gently, slowly. It's nothing like before – but it's just as good, in fact, it's better. We break apart, and I look down at her.

"I suppose I could…" It's amazing how she makes me feel drunk when I haven't even had a _butterbeer_ all night. "But promise me we won't do…_anything_ until you're sober. I don't want you to regret anything." She smiles.

"I wouldn't regret it. But, you're quite right, Ron. C'mon, let's go to bed."

**FIN**

**A/N: So? What did you think? Review!**


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